


Lost

by iiMentally_Insaneii



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Death, Evil, Gore, Guns, Malnourished, Mute - Freeform, Orphan - Freeform, Orphanage, Other, Violence, Whipped, abandoned, abused, afraid, detailed death, life - Freeform, master - Freeform, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iiMentally_Insaneii/pseuds/iiMentally_Insaneii
Summary: Abandoned as a young child, the boy must forgo a long and torturous life. With the head of the orphanage beating him at every chance he gets, will Orphan make it out alive? Will Joanne save him from the orphanage, or will it crash and burn?





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a three part story. It is a short story. Each part will have a different amount of chapters. Chapters may be short because of this. There are only 4664 words in total, 4646 if you don't count the part splittings. If you wish to use parts of my story or share it, just ask, I won't hurt you, I swear. Just make sure to give me credit if you share it. Also, give me credit for the part you used.
> 
> If you spot any spelling errors, or find something that doesn't make sense, do tell. I have edited this but I, of course, am not perfect. Also, if you find my story somewhere else and they have not given me credit, please tell me. I started this story in my Google Drive on December 8th, 2017 and finished it on March 10th, 2018. 
> 
> Finally, if you see anything like my story, and I mean so much like my story that it could very well be my story, please check who had their's out first. If someone's story is so much like mine, it could very well be a coincidence, so don't rip their head off with your bare hands, thank you. 
> 
> Other than that, I have a few warnings for you. Okay, I must say, this story is very violent, especially the end. It has mentions of whipping, blood, shooting, guns, abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, manipulation, child-labor, murder, and that's all I can think of right now. And, before I give the final plead, I know, there is an overuse of the words "blood" and "crimson" in Part Three. Okay, now onto my final plead! Please, do not let this story get into the hands of someone 11 and under. 
> 
> Please enjoy yourself in this short story if you wish to proceed!  

**_ Lost _ **

_Part One Out of Three_

 

     Lost. Betrayed. Left behind. Confused. Alone. That's all he felt. All he was. Pathetic. Disgusting. Who'd like him? No wonder they left him there; alone and afraid with nobody to turn to. That's why he was on his own. The reason behind why he was here. Why he didn't have a home. Why was it so obvious? Why must the truth be so... so painful? So cruel and unmerciful? So unloving and unforgiving? 

 _Orphan_. That's what they called him. That's what he was. But why?  _Why_  was he an orphan? Because his parents thought he was so disgusting and pathetic they threw him out like an old toy? Like the rotten food lying in the garbage? He was so angry. No, not angry. He couldn't be mad at his parents for showing him the truth. He was just so... confused.

     He was named Orphan, but that was only his nickname. He couldn't remember his real name, something starting with a 'C'. Chase? Chance? Cody? Before all this, before the disgusting orphanage, Orphan liked to believe he had a nice life, but he knew it wasn't true. For heaven's sake! The boy's parents left him on the side of the road in front of an orphanage when he was barely three years old. They tossed him out like he was nothing to them. Well, he  _was_ nothing to them. Just a toy to beat until they got bored. Orphan was at least fourteen now. He didn't know his birth-date. He didn't know anything about himself.

     Confusion.  _Who was he_? He could be anyone. He didn't know who he was.  _Pathetic_. Who doesn't know who they are? Suddenly, in the midst of his heavy thinking, a voice broke through. "I want him!" it said. Orphan deemed the voice a female's. Who did she want? Kianna? Talsia? Leona? Jayson? Ben? Daxton? Certainly not him, he was too broken.

     "Ma'am, we can't. He's not adoptable," a male's voice - possibly the owner's - said. Were they talking about him? Indeed, it was true. He wasn't adoptable. He's been given up on so many times... so many times that he was giving up on himself. Orphan was a lost cause. Irreversible. Irreparable. Broken. Shattered. Torn to pieces. He couldn't find a light, for the light disappeared the moment his parents dropped him off.

     "Look, I don't care how much you want, I just want him. I'll fix him and make sure my home is his forever home! Please, sir," the unnamed woman begged. Consequently—a reaction to her begging, perhaps—Orphan became curious. Slipping out of his room, quiet as a mouse, he tiptoed down the stairs before settling his eyes on a gorgeous older woman. Upon seeing her, he guessed she was probably about thirty-four.

     He examined her. Who was she? She had long brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders, stopping just below her rib cage. She wasn't awfully thin, but she wasn't chubby, either. Her face was a soft heart shape with big blue doe eyes. She had a button nose with full, light pink lips. Sizing her up, she was probably five foot eight. She looked nice clothing wise and look wise. Not too rich but not poor.

     As if sensing him, she and the owner turned to him. "Orphan," the man said in disgust. He looked down, knowing that she wouldn't want to see his ugly face. "Why have you come down from your room, you pathetic piece of garbage?" he snapped at Orphan. The woman gasped in surprise at the tone the man was using.

     "I'm sorry, Master Franklin, I just wanted to see what the noise was about," Orphan whispered so quietly that they almost couldn't hear him, for his voice wasraspy from the years of not speaking. The woman obviously felt bad as she rushed over to hug him. Once enveloped in her arms, he flinched. The woman pulled back.

     "Oh, my apologies! My name is Joanne Steventens and I'm looking to adopt you!" Joanne smiled brightly. Surprised, Orphan's head jerked up, his near-black eyes looking into Joanne's for any doubt or hesitation. He didn't find anything except happiness and the truth.  _Happiness_. Something he didn't have. Something Orphan thought he would never have. Happiness was something that always escaped his clutches, something that wriggled and fought him.

     "Really? I haven't been adopted since I was six. Which was... eight years ago, I do believe," Orphan mumbled. He was in shock, however, that somebody wanted to adopt  _him_  out of all the children. Looking at him in utter surprise, Joanne smiled sadly. Eight years? That's upsetting. She couldn't understand why. Sure, he might need some work, but he had his looks that any parent would want.

     Suddenly holding Orphan at arm's reach, Joanne inspected him. Orphan had dirty blonde hair that was spiked in the front. It didn't go past his ears. He was relatively tall for his age, looking to be standing at five foot eleven. His jaw looked sharp and strong, he had a roman nose, big dark gray eyes, long eyelashes, full lips and thick, arched eyebrows. His build looked lean and strong. But something was off. Something in Orphan's eyes. Something. Something.  _Something._

     And there it was, swimming around, mixed into the two pools of sadness lied loneliness, darkness, and worst of all,  _fear_. It was all there, in this young man's eyes. He shouldn't feel like that and Joanne knew it. Against his will, Joanne pulled him into another hug. Once in her grasp, he tensed. Why was she hugging a lowlife like him? Was this another of Master Franklin's evil, cruel and sadistic plans? To let someone love him before telling him it was a joke? Is that what it was?

     As his mouth opened, his voice raised and he screamed, "No!" he pushed the woman off his own body. "No, no, no, no! I'm not getting pulled into this loving crap! Not again! You," he pointed a finger at Franklin, "you, will not trick me again! Never. Again!" A traitorous tear ran down his cheek, dripping off his chin. Then another. And another, and another, the trickle turned into a stream, but before that stream could turn into a river, Orphan turned and bolted upstairs, leaving a confused Joanne and a smiling Franklin in his wake.

     Franklin was a sick man; no surprise there, but to go as far as to humiliate a child? Disgusting. What could Orphan do?  _Nothing_. He has to sit there and pretend he's okay as Master Franklin beats him over and over. Not a peep could come from him. Not one. Orphan spoke today, he spoke! How dare that unworthy child  _speak_!? Orphan was surely going to be beat tonight. You don't defy Master Franklin without consequences!

     Upstairs, hidden deep in the closet, hot, salty, crystal clear tears ran down Orphan's cheeks, faster and faster. It was too late to stop them, so he pressed his fist to his mouth and let his emotions take over, a whirlwind of sadness from all the pent up emotions. He had created a wall for a reason, but his emotions got through anyways. They ripped through him so fast, he could almost hear his mind splitting in two. It hurt. It hurt so much.

     Orphan whimpered in the dark. He had realized what he had just done. It hit him like a train, taking all of the oxygen from his lungs and rendering him breathless. What had he done? He  _spoke_. He used his voice. Orphan's river suddenly turned into a sea, pressing his fist even harder against his mouth. His free hand ran over all the cuts, all the scars and bruises. They were all from Franklin, and now he was going to have more to add to his collection.  _What had he done_?

_ **Lost** _

_Part Two Out of Three_

 

     The footsteps. He heard them, the sound quickly closing in on him as the angry footsteps rang in his ears. "No, no, no," he muttered.  _No_. Orphan whimpered in the silence of the closet, the only sound that could be heard other than Orphan's labored breathing. No! He'd known what he did but why did he have to get beaten? Why must it be like this? The bruises he had acquired reminded him of all the pain he went through.

    He ran his fingers over them gently, as if touching them would kill his entire being, which Orphan didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Snapping back to reality, Orphan heard them. The footsteps got louder, closer, heavier, until suddenly his bedroom door slammed open, "Orphan! Where are you, you useless child?!" an angry voice shouted, causing the fourteen year old to flinch. The room was dead silent. "I know you are in here, you piece of garbage," Franklin said. A single sound rang through the room, a sound Orphan was familiar with: the unbuckling of a belt. "Are you in the closet?" The door was ripped open, almost flying off its hinges. "Ah-ha! Found you! Take off your shirt and turn around, you broke the rules!" Franklin commanded, his tone laced with venom.  _You'll get what's coming to you, you stupid child,_  he thought happily.

    Orphan whimpered before complying. He knew what was in store for him, he was no stranger to markings of a belt. They lined his back in unrecognizable patterns, some weren't even healed from his last beating. He looked up at Franklin, mouthing something along the lines of, "Please, no more. I can't take it, please, Master Franklin, no more." His stormy eyes held something that made Franklin laugh.  _Fear_.  

     Franklin's cackle filled the room, "No more? Then you shouldn't have broken the rules, you no-named freak!" That was the last thing Orphan heard before the whistling. He heard it before he felt it. The belt cracked him on his back, making Orphan yelp and arch his back. "You don't speak, don't even make noises!" Franklin yelled. The belt whipped through the air before landing on Orphan once more.

     The other kids had heard Franklin's laughing, and had laughed right along with him. Orphan was getting what he deserved. After all, he was worthless and useless. He broke the rules and he got punished. He doesn't deserve life. "Pathetic," the children giggled. The adult woman had never left though. She heard it all, too. All too soon, before she could stop herself, her legs carried her up the stairs.

     Orphan's eyes let crystal tears slip. He was worthless. They were all right! All of them! All the children and so-called "parents" he had. Before he knew it, the belt cracked his back again; over and over and over, making him bleed. The dark crimson liquid dripped down Orphan's back to the floor; making a mess he'd have to clean only minutes after this beating. Closing his eyes and embracing the pain, he could hear Franklin laughing above him, but that wasn't the last thing he heard. The last thing he heard before everything went black was a scream; a woman's scream, Joanne's scream.

    It was far too late; she had seen Franklin whip Orphan.  _How dare he!_ Joanne thought angrily.  _How dare he think he could whip Orphan!_  "Franklin! How dare you whip him! He has done nothing so wrongly that you must whip him!" and with that, she stalked over to the male, seething in anger, and slapped Franklin. Just as fast as he hit the floor, her foot rammed into his side violently, causing him to cough. As Franklin recuperated, Joanne looked around the room, spotting Orphan hunched over, his arms around his stomach with dark crimson painting his backside. "Oh, Orphan," Joanne gasped.

     She ran to a bathroom close by and grabbed a rag, wetting it with water. She also grabbed peroxide to cleanse Orphan's wounds. Bolting back to him, she knelt beside him. "Orphan? Can you hear me?" she questioned, her voice soft and shaky. "Orphan?" she asked once more. Joanne leaned forwards to see his face, tilting his chin up to her. His eyes were closed. Joanne smiled sadly before getting to work on his back.

     Joanne's hands gently dabbed the peroxide onto the rag, patting at Orphan's back. The blood from him got onto the rag, causing it to stain an unsettling red. Minutes after, Joanne's handiwork was done. She propped the fourteen-year-old boy up, hoisting him over her shoulder. The fact Joanne could lift Orphan troubled her. It meant the boy was so underweight, he was easy to lift.  _What has Franklin done to you, child?_  Joanne thought sadly. Shaking her head slightly, she cleared the thoughts.

     Joanne set the boy on his bed, whispering to him that she'd be right back. After turning around to leave, rustling alerted her. Flying back around, she saw that Orphan was still out cold. She searched the room, her top lip curling into a snarl of disgust as she spotted the origin of the sound.  _Franklin_. "Joanne? What are you—" Franklin started before turning slowly to see Orphan on his bed, knocked out. "Oh," he mumbled quietly.

     "How could you do that?! Especially to a child! You are a sick man! I want to adopt Orphan. Where are his files, Franklin?" Joanne questioned, her voice laced with anger and sadness. The older man shook his head in defiance, for nobody controlled him,  _especially_  a  _woman_. "Franklin. Where are the files?" Joanne demanded, her voice frighteningly calm. Franklin sighed and made a gesture with his hand. He started walking out of the room, so Joanne followed.

     Down the stairway, through the dusty hall, the floorboards creaking with every step. Into a room, covered in dust and cobwebs. Franklin flipped the light switch to reveal drawers filled with files, as Joanne could only imagine. "Gah, I haven't been in here in ages," Franklin mumbled. Joanne watched as he carefully made his way to the lone desk. On top of the desk was an old, deep purple colored binder. From the looks of it, the binder had seen enough, for it had rips and holes in it. He grumbled as he flipped through it, coming to a stop shortly after opening it.

     "Well?" Joanne asked, she'd wanted to know what Master Franklin found. He gave her a hand signal, telling her to wait. Muttering something under his breath, he slammed the folder closed and walked to the drawer that didn't look any different from its relatives surrounding it. "What's in there?" she pestered.

     Grunting, the man answered, "It's that useless child's files." He roughly opened the drawer, coughing as dust flew up. Clearing it, he pulled out a blue folder. Turning to the brunette, he shoved the folder into her chest. "Take it!" he said, raising his voice. She nodded, holding it to her chest and grasping it. "Now get out of the file room," Franklin commanded, pointing a wrinkled finger towards the door. Joanne nodded again, walking to the door. She opened it, stepped out, and slammed it behind her.

     Running to Orphan's room, she entered to find him awake. "Hey, buddy. I got your files. I want to adopt you. I'm not joking, I swear," she said quietly, her melodic voice barely audible. "May I sit on the bed with you?" Joanne asked him. He stared at her with a blank look for a few long seconds before he nodded, scooting over so she could sit by him.

     Taking his invitation, she sat by the younger boy. With trembling hands, he reached for his folder before yanking back his hands, looking at Joanne questioningly. So many emotions were in his eyes. The storm had calmed. Looking deeper, she saw confusion, pain, and caution. He was still scared of her. "Do you want it?" she asked him, watching him glance towards it. Orphan nodded. This folder was powerful. It had  _everything_  about him in there. With shaky hands, he reached for it once more, grasping it and bringing it towards him.

     Pale hands opened the folder, the first thing he saw was enough to bring tears to his cloudy eyes, quickly forcing themselves out and dripping down his cheeks. Not long after calming down, he looked at the folder and what was inside it. There, sitting delicately in the folder, was an old yellow paper. In the middle of that paper was his name. No, not the name  _Orphan_ , or "piece of garbage" or even "useless child", not those cursed names. Inside the folder was his name.  _Caden_. 

     "Caden," Joanne whispered.

     Caden shivered, his name sounded so... so  _foreign_. The waterworks built up, faster and faster before  _finally_! The tears almost exploded out of his eyes as he broke down.All this time, he had a name! A name! Something to define him. Something... something he could cling to, something intimate. Something he could remember forever. His name. Caden finally broke and let out a loud wail, throwing himself into Joanne. Consequently, Joanne stumbled, gasping. Arms circled her waist as the boy hugged her, burying his head into her neck. "Thank you, thank you so much," Caden whispered, his voice scratchy and rough. The older woman came to her senses, quickly hugging him back, comforting him. She whispered into his ear, just audible enough for him to hear.

     "You're welcome," her lips whispered, a tear betraying her eyes.

**_ Lost _ **

_Part Three Out of Three_

 

     In the room down the stairs where Joanne had left him, Franklin cursed, banging his fist against the desk. "What was I thinking?!" he questioned. He regretted his choice of giving that woman the files. He knew what was to come, it had happened once before when that useless child was merely seven years old. That wretched human,  _Joanne_ , would demand custody of Caden, but soon find that Franklin was not willing to give it. After all,  _he_  was the one who controlled whether a kid could be adopted or not. 

     Franklin had to stop her before she came to him, asking for custody. However, he was fresh out of ideas. Once more did he bang his desk, brainstorming.  _How could I, Franklin, stop him from leaving? He'll never escape my grasp, my power is too strong. The fear in his eyes is wonderfully satisfying.... How could I ever let him go?_  Franklin thought, a smirk forming on his lips as he thought of the fear Caden had for him. The pure, fresh, never-ending, raw  _fear_. It made him feel like a child when they get what they want. He had  _power._

     Then, there in the file room, an idea struck deep within him, sending out an evil chuckle.  _Of course! How could I forget my most loyal child? That's it!_  Franklin thought gleefully. His most loyal child, a young boy of thirteen, he could use as his weapon! The idea excited Franklin. Suddenly, he stood from the chair in which he sat and practically trotted towards the door. The door was nearly ripped off its hinges with the force he used. His voice echoed through the entire building as he yelled for the child.

     "Daxton! Get down here  _now_!" he yelled. Immediately, the soft padding of a child could be heard as Daxton ran downstairs towards his master. He smiled, looking up at Franklin, much like Franklin smiled down on him. "Ah, good. Daxton, I need you to do something for me," he explained, ushering the child into the room. "You see," he started, "that useless child, Orphan, might be getting adopted. We can't have that now can we?" Franklin told Daxton, who was shaking his head furiously.

     "No sir," came the feeble response.

     "Look at me, Daxton," Franklin demanded. Upon hearing the command, Daxton's head rose quickly. Intrigued, Franklin took the chance to inspect him. He had greenish-gray eyes with an angular face. Hair covered his head in thick, nearly black curls that stopped just above his prominent collarbone. He had a roman nose with naturally tanned skin. Arched eyebrows settled above his eyes, giving him a mature look. He wasn't bad-looking whatsoever. The thing that set him off, however, was the fear mixed with determination in his eyes.  _Why, is he afraid of little ol' me?_  Franklin thought to himself, mentally chuckling. Fear gave him power, power that he abused and bent to his will, but he was perfectly okay with that, even if it was sadistic.

     "Oh, Daxton," Franklin said, a dark chuckle escaping his parted pink lips, "no need to be afraid, my child." The sentence alone increased Daxton's fear. What was his master to do with him? More so,  _what was he going to make Daxton do_? The thoughts swam in and out of Daxton's head faster than lighting. It all became too much, much too quickly. Daxton fell to the floor, his hands pressing against his temples.

    "M-Master Franklin, my head hurts. I can't think straight. Master, what's going on?" the young boy questioned, confusion taking over. However, he'd soon find that he wouldn't be getting much of a response. Franklin's lips quirked into a smirk, an evil one at that. He shook his head as he let out a snicker.

     "You are in no position to be asking questions," the older man snipped, lowering both bushy eyebrows, "Or I am wrong? Are you in a position to ask questions, Daxton?" 

     The younger boy's cheeks lit up as he shook his head once more, his curls bouncing with the movement. He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it as his master held up his hand. "Here is what I need you to do," Franklin spoke in a hushed tone, gesturing for the thirteen year old to come closer. He reached into the desk, feeling the cool metal almost as soon as his hand reached in. Grasping it, he brought it out, a gasp leaving the young boy as the dim lights glinted off the metal.

     "I need you to  _kill_  that woman and the boy. Make sure they're dead, you hear? Especially the boy. Make sure to kill  _him_ ," Franklin hissed coldly, shoving the pistol into the hands of the younger male. Daxton seemed to struggle within himself before sighing, his shoulders slumping. He nodded, wrapping his fingers around the gun. He started to walk towards the exit but Franklin stopped him, "Daxton?" The boy turned to look at his superior, his head cocked to the side.

     Franklin chuckled silently to himself, mentally comparing the boy to a confused dog, "Daxton. If you leave so much as a  _hair_  to who committed the crime, I will see to it that you are murdered by  _my_ hands." The boy's eyes filled with fear and he nodded frantically, showing that he understood completely. Daxton resumed his walk to leave, only this time, he wasn't interrupted. As soon as his footsteps faded, Franklin ran out to his car, starting it and getting away from the soon-to-be murder scene.

 _Kill him_. The words seemed echo in his head, over and over. It was as if a broken record player was set in his mind.  _Kill him_ ,  _kill him_.... If murder was the way to make his master proud of him, he'd do it, no questions asked. Grinning to himself, he ran a hand over the cool metal of the gun chuckling evilly. "Oh, Orphan, you'll get what's coming to you... you'll get it  _very_  soon," Daxton smirked, his voice sounding sinister.

     On the unsuspecting end of the stick, Joanne and Caden were packing his belongings. Joanne had told him that she would adopt him, but she'd need to convince Franklin to let her. They had no idea that tonight would be their last night, however. "Thank you so much," Caden whispered again, this time it had a double meaning. She was saving him from the orphanage he had called  _home_  for far too long.

     Joanne didn't say anything but shot him a smile. She had no problem with taking him in. Moreover, she was confident she could get Caden to break his shell. He had potential. Potential to be a great man one day. She was delighted at the idea to be able to call Caden her son, but that wouldn't happen if Franklin denied him being adopted for whatever reason he could come up with. Joanne sighed in content, looking out the window at the pale moon. "Are you all packed up?" she asked, looking back to Caden before glancing around the room.

     Her response came in the form of a small nod. Nearly-black eyes scanned the room once more, seeing if there was anything else he should take. When he couldn't find any, he started zipping up his small suitcase. After it was zipped, he stood, holding a hand out to the woman on the floor. She took it gratefully and pulled herself up. "Well, let's get going," she said, pulling to door open and walking out.

     Suddenly, Orphan heard a scream. There was no doubt it in his mind that it came from Joanne. He dropped his suitcase and ran to the door, where he found Joanne sagged against the wall, her hand over her chest. "I-I," she tried to speak. Blood flowed over her hand, painting her and the floor a crimson red. Her hand was shaking and she was whispering, motioning for him to come closer. So, Caden did, hugging her and setting his ear right next to her mouth. "C-Caden, b-be... safe. I-I... I love y-you," her faint voice came.

     "I love you, too. Please, Joanne. Don't go," he pleaded. Not when things were just turning out to be okay. Not now. "Joanne...," he whispered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she took her last breath before her body shuddered and collapsed. "No!" Caden screamed. His shaky hands closed her eyelids. All too soon, a dark laugh came from behind him. He spun around faster than lighting, lunging towards the now-present boy.

     His fists became his weapon as he tackled the boy down, straddling him and punching him furiously. "You! You took her from me! You took her! You stole my future! My happy ending!" his shouts got louder. A smile split upon the boy's lips. He tried to speak, but he couldn't with all the blood filling his throat.  _Kill_.

     " _Orphan_. I-I am doing what M-Master asked of me, and he asked f-for you to... to die!" Daxton screeched, jumping up and pointing the gun at Caden. At the end of the barrel, Caden froze. His entire being went rigid, his thoughts stopped and his voice caught in his throat. "And now," Daxton smiled sickly, "I must fulfill my orders!" The trigger was pulled. The bullet rocketed towards the other boy, hitting Caden in the stomach. He screamed in pain, his hands flying towards the injury that was gushing thick crimson blood.

     "N-No, it won't... it won't end like this!" Caden cried out, suddenly running forwards to steal the gun from Daxton. It was as if everything was in slow motion. Caden aimed the gun at Daxton's head. He couldn't comprehend what he was doing, but he felt his finger pressing down, successfully pulling the trigger. The bullet shot right through Daxton's head, his forehead becoming a crime scene. The deep crimson spilled out, coating everything in sight; the walls, floors, boys, the gun. Everything was painted in the gruesome color of blood. 

     Suddenly, Caden fell to the floor, his adrenaline wearing off. He had exerted himself. Despite this fact, the boy smiled gruesomely. He, a lowlife child, had avenged his mother-to-be, and he'd be lying if he had claimed that it didn't feel good. The cold of the floor comforted him slightly, letting him know he wasn't dead, not yet... not yet.

     Writhing in pain, both boys fought for their last moments, blood coating them head to toe. Before long, Daxton faded into the void, his wound through the forehead being too much to handle. His body became still, the wriggling ceased.

     Caden's hand loosened as he started losing his grasp on reality as well. Quickly, he felt the pistol slip from his grasp, hearing it find its way onto the floor. However, the consequences quickly started. Caden began coughing violently, lying only feet away from the dead boy. He coughed up blood and bile, his throat feeling raw, his tongue tasting the metallic crimson blood of his being.

     Painfully, Caden faded, his vision dancing with stars that were slowly going out like flickering light bulbs. As he was dying, surrounded in his own blood, one last line escaped his parted pink lips,

**_"N-Now, I am truly l-lost, because not e-everyone gets their h-happy ending."_ **


End file.
